


The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you

by linzackles



Series: There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin [1]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, a little toxic never hurt nobody, forbidden fruit trope, jealous Beth, pre-204
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linzackles/pseuds/linzackles
Summary: Rio has a girlfriend and Beth's fine with it. Completely and utterly fine with it. So, so fine with it.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652176
Comments: 233
Kudos: 339





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I know we're all a little extra sensitive about cheating in this fandom, so if you have very strong feelings about it, especially as it relates to Rio, then this is not the drabble for you and that's ok :) Maybe the next one will be! xx

Beth stops dead.

For a second she doesn’t believe what her eyes are telling her.

But it’s undeniably him. He’s wearing a deep red T-shirt and the tattoos on his arms are visible, as is his lower back as he reaches for something on a high shelf.

But why in the hell is Rio in a Costco??

Her feet are heading closer towards him before she can even give them the order to and she’s two steps away when he settles back down, having grabbed hold of the vacuum cleaner he was reaching for.

He catches sight of her, eyebrow popping up, and Beth opens her mouth, but someone else speaks first.

“Baby, please don’t kill me – but I don’t think that’s the right one.”

She’d thought the woman standing behind him was just another shopper, but now Beth realises they’re together and then she registers she’d just called him _baby_ and then her brain entirely fritzes out.

“Hey,” he says to her.

Beth can’t speak, she thinks her throat may have closed up.

Rio looks very amused by this and he turns to the woman, who Beth now takes in properly. She looks like she’s in her late twenties, hair tied up in a long messy ponytail. She’s a brunette and a little taller than Beth, kitted out in not-entirely-obnoxious athleisure.

She’s also wearing a very confused expression.

“…Hi?”

Rio jerks his head in Beth’s direction. “Chana, this Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Chana. We work together,” he says to her helpfully.

Now her eyes light up: “Oh!”

She reaches an eager hand out to Beth, who actually manages to place her own in it.

“This is so exciting, I never get to meet _any_ of Rio’s colleagues. Are you an architect too?”

Beth’s eyes jump to Rio, but instead of looking worried at having been caught out in this lie, he looks only more amused.

“That’s what they tell me,” Beth finally manages to choke out.

Chana laughs; Rio’s smirking. Beth wants to die.

“Um, it was nice to meet you,” she forces out, then instantly spins on her heels.

The fact that she manages not to sprint down the aisle is miraculous, but by the time she gets back to her car, she is breathing hard and in a cold sweat.

He has a girlfriend??

* * *

They’re half-drunk and playing a guessing game they’d started a while back called Who Even Is Our Boss? – Annie had named it, obviously – and it suddenly spills from Beth’s mouth.

“If he had a girlfriend, what would she look like?”

“Ooh, good one, Beth!” Annie praises.

And it’s not that she expects them to start describing _her_ – it’s just that she didn’t expect Ruby to immediately begin evoking Beth’s exact opposite.

“Really tall and athletic-looking brunette who’s like a little scary but also effortlessly stunning.”

“Yes, oh my god! Like Gal Gadot, right?” Annie asks. At Ruby’s frown: “Wonder Woman.”

“Yes!” Ruby exclaims. “Exactly.”

“Who?” Beth breathes out, feeling a bit faint.

She hadn’t been able to make it the day Ruby had taken Sara to go watch the film and now she’s almost too scared to know.

But Annie whips out her phone, does a quick Google then presents the enlarged image to her sister.

It takes Beth’s breath away, not least because Chana and the woman in the picture could be sisters.

Thankfully they don’t notice her reaction, Annie pulling her phone back to put her feet up on the couch.

“But he so wouldn’t have a girlfriend,” she announces knowingly. “More like a revolving door of lovers who would each just relish the time they get to spend with him.”

“He’s not James Bond, Annie.”

Beth stops listening.

* * *

She’s doing a drop at one of his warehouses and one of the guys point her to an office to receive payment.

When she walks in, Rio is busy inside a safe, and he looks over his shoulder to regard her before jerking his chin to invite her inside.

“Full drop?”

“Yeah,” she nods.

“Cool.”

He brings out a few stacks of money then lines them up on the desk with a dismissive air.

She flushes. That's it?

“…So we’re just going to pretend it never happened?”

Brow popped, he turns to face her fully, arms crossed over his front.

He looks so good, grey shirt crisp and buttoned all the way up, tattoo peeking out from just above it. There’s very little light in the room, but what there is falls on his cheekbones and lower lip.

For a second she can’t keep her eyes off it.

“What happened?”

God.

Her gaze flies back to his.

“I met your… Chana.”

His lips quirk a little at this and she hates the embarrassment heating her chest.

“Oh, I wasn’t pretendin nothin – did ya wanna say sum’n about it?” he taunts, frown deep and mocking.

“Yes.”

Why have you been flirting with me? Looking at me the way you do?

Was that before her? Was it all just a farce? Is that the kind of woman you’re actually attracted to?

“Why are you lying to her?”

Shifting his weight, he looks even more amused.

“Who said I am?”

She scoffs, annoyed with his seeming constant need to stump her somehow.

“You’re not an architect.”

Now he smiles. “You know that for a fact?”

It sends her back a step.

What _does_ she know about him for a fact?

But his expression tells her he’s playing with her, and she huffs.

“Fine. As long as you know I’m not lying for you again.”

Now his smile goes from amused to darkly pleased as he leans back a little, regarding her.

“Darlin, ain’t that all you do?”

It cuts her down to the knees in a matter of words, and he knows it. Revels in it.

Sewing her lips shut, she goes forward to get the money, dedicated to not giving him the satisfaction of her eyes falling on him again.

She’s twisted around, more than ready to leave, when he stops her.

“Elizabeth.”

She pauses. Waits for him to speak.

But he doesn’t, not till she reluctantly turns all the way back around and his gaze takes her in slowly, top to toes.

She swallows.

“Don’t forget to validate your parking.”

She shoots him what she hopes is a deeply withering gaze, which only makes him grin, before spinning back around and pushing out.

Back into fresh air that isn’t filled with him and everything she wants.

* * *

Beth downs the bourbon.

_At least Dad tries; you're not even trying._

_You're the worst mom ever._

It's not the first time he'd said it to her, but this time it isn't because she'd sent him to bed early or because she'd said no to a chocolate bar before dinner. This time he'd wanted his parents back together. And this time there'd been a look on his face; a haunting sadness in his eyes. This time he'd meant it.

The tears fall freely as she remembers the way Kenny had refused to hug her goodbye when Dean had come to fetch them and she pours out another double; takes a long sip and wishes it had the answers she's looking for.

Suddenly the backdoor opens and Beth quickly wipes at her eyes and face as Rio enters from the dark, letting the door shut behind him.

“Yo.”

He doesn't enter the room further and Beth thanks god that she'd left the kitchen light off, the lounge light filtering in to where she's sitting at the island. Hopefully he can't see how she's cried off all her makeup.

But it annoys her that he's here, now, that he thinks he can just enter her house like this after weeks of not bothering to see her.

“What?”

“That a way to greet your boss?”

“It's late.”

“And you owe.”

No. She can’t deal with this now, too.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“You want a night off, darlin? Pay me.”

“It's not like you need it tonight,” she points out flatly, scoffing.

His eyes narrow. “It's your mess.”

“And I'll fix it.”

“How?”

She’s so incredibly tired, down to her bones. Tired of being inept. As an employee, as a mother. As someone people depend on.

“I don't know yet.”

Her voice comes out so weak, barely there.

“Don't make me keep askin; it ain't always gonna be this nice. Get me my money or run me a check.”

“God, why can't you ever just give me a break? Is one night really that much to ask for? Don't you have better things to do right now?”

He watches her.

“Like what?”

“I don't know – have dinner with your girlfriend?”

He smirks. “That really bothers you, huh?”

“No.”

“Well then maybe you should stop bringing it up.”

“Maybe you should leave me alone,” she spits. “I'll get you your money when I can, torturing me isn't going to make it go any faster.”

He steps closer, jaw rocking, and it seems like he's about to retort, throw something back at her, but then he must see her – _see her_ – because his face changes.

She watches as his jaw softens, frown concerned instead of antagonistic.

“What's wrong?”

 _What isn't?_ she wants to say, but it breaks her inside and her voice cracks.

“Rio. I can't do this right now. _Please_.”

Something crosses his eyes and it's too fast for her to read but then suddenly he's closer, all the way close, and before she can breathe, he's caressing her face.

His thumb wipes away an errant tear she'd missed and his hand is so warm and cradling, like he could hold her up. All of her, mind and body.

Her eyes close at the contact. It's been so long since she's been touched and it's not just anyone, it's _him_.

Her eyes open to meet his and there's something complicated there, something... caring.

Then he kisses her.

It's not at all the way she's ever thought it would be.

It's not rough or hard; not punishing or demanding. His lips are soft, hand on her still comforting, and Beth finds herself moving off the chair to get closer to him and he pulls her in, too, till her chest is against his and they’re touching everywhere.

Oh.

He’s all hard lines, rough material, against her too-soft body. It feels too right, his lips moving tenderly against hers. She finds herself wondering what they’d be like on her neck, down her chest.

But then he pulls away.

Tipping her chin, she blinks up at him.

She's barefoot, meaning he towers above her even more than he usually does.

It's funny, she's never really _noticed_ Dean's height; has never thought of him as tall or someone to look up to. But Rio is something else, has always been. He's powerful and intimidating and everything she's drawn to that she shouldn't be.

Yet, still, they’re closer than they’ve ever been, and it coaxes a murmured admission out of her.

“Sometimes I think you torture me just because it's an excuse to be around me.”

She can't believe it's made it past her lips, but he doesn't look surprised.

His eyes are dark, lips drawn together.

“Maybe I do.”

It takes her breath away.

Why? God, why now? Neither of them should be doing this, admitting this.

But, god help her, she wants more; wants infinitely more.

Still. She remembers Chana’s kind eyes and light smile, the way the _Babe_ had fallen from her tongue so easily.

“You shouldn't kiss me again.”

He doesn't say anything; doesn't react.

Until suddenly his thumb is running gently along her lower lip and it sends a shiver through her body that darts all the way between her legs, goosebumps rising across her chest.

Then he kisses her.

Beth whimpers against his lips that are a little needier, now, taking. And she wants him to, opening her mouth to his tongue to _give_.

He kisses her like he’d gotten a taste and now he can’t _not_ have her – she feels it, too, tongue battling with his as she wraps her arms around his neck.

And she really, really wants him, she realises. She can feel it in her bones, in the way her body burns when they stumble and his hips collide with hers.

She moans into the kiss and it strikes her so hard that she pulls away.

It had been so desperate, so needy. She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard that sound come from herself before.

He has his lip gripped between his teeth, watching her, and Beth slowly starts to move away, not really sure he’ll follow.

But he does.

So her footsteps quicken and in seconds they’re in her bedroom, Rio pushing her up against the wall and pinning her there with his body. He kisses her even harder and Beth whimpers. She can feel how hard he is. She can’t believe this is really happening.

He rocks his body away to start undressing her and Beth helps till she’s only in her underwear and she’s so hot, especially with the look in his eyes, that she can’t even think to be self-conscious.

He takes in her body slowly, from between her hips to her stomach then her breasts, visible through the sheer of her bra.

Finally his eyes make it back to hers and she wonders how swollen her lips are; how tear-stained her face is.

“I only go tough on you ’cuz I know you can take it. You know that, right?”

A beat passes, a moment, then she twists around, her palms finding a grip in the wall.

“I can take it.”

He mutters a _Fuck_ under his breath and then there's the clink of his belt, the scrape of his zipper, and her throat goes dry at just the promise; the thought of what they're about to do.

He palms her ass for a second before yanking down her panties and when Beth moans, it’s that same one. Dark and hungry.

He passes a finger through her slit but she’s wet – so goddamn wet – and then he presses against her, lines up. His breath falls around her collarbones and then he’s pushing inside her, and she immediately realises he’s a lot bigger than Dean.

“Oh my god.”

He goes slow, letting her adjust around him, and her body lets him in deeper and deeper until he’s all the way inside and Beth wants to cry out, she’s so full.

Then she feels his hands at the hook of her bra and she lets him get it off her, whimpers as he wraps his hand around her breast.

He kisses at the back of her neck and Beth honestly considers crying, it’s so much. She doesn’t think anything has ever felt this good in her life.

But then his free hand goes down, down over her stomach until he’s finding her clit.

“Ohh-h,” she moans out at just the touch.

He presses down roughly and she moves reflexively, panting when it shifts him inside her.

“OH, oh god.”

“Fuck, momma, you’re a lot,” he groans into her neck.

“Please just don’t stop.”

But he does, pulling away then out of her, and no, no. Please, god, let this not just have been his newest form of torture.

But then he’s pulling her away, twisting her around and pushing her down onto her bed.

She watches as he shucks all his clothing and then he’s on top of her, sucking her nipple into his mouth as he once again finds her clit, starts a harsher rhythm there. 

She whimpers even higher than the sound of his mouth on her.

“Rio, please.”

He hums a little and then his beard scrapes up her chest as he kisses his way to repositioning himself over her. He kisses her hotly as he presses back inside her and she digs her nails into his muscled arms; into his lithe neck.

She kisses him back harder because it’s the only way to stay sane as he starts moving inside her, jolting his hips up into her then slipping out a little and rotating back in. She meets his pace and it gets faster, hotter, till they aren’t kissing anymore, her vision starting to blur as her legs shake.

His thrusts become more erratic as his fingers dig into her hips and she cries out as she comes, the orgasm hitting her so hard that for a second she thinks she might pass out but then another wave comes, better, and he groans as she clenches around him.

He jolts up even deeper into her, body stiffening, and she forces her eyes open to watch him come. To watch her make him come.

It’s maybe the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, and Beth can barely breathe watching him come apart because of _her_ – jaw tight but mouth open. She wants to kiss him, but her own orgasm is still coursing through her veins, jolting through her, and her eyes fall closed again as she rides it.

After a minute she feels him roll off her, the bed dipping beside her, and Beth lets out a long breath.

She doesn’t want him to leave.

That’s her first thought.

The second is _oh no_. What have they done?

She turns to look at him and she’s surprised to find him already staring at her.

There's a look there she can't place; can't read.

“I wasn’t crying about you,” she feels she owes it to him to say. “Kenny said some awful things and I just felt like a terrible mother; like I can’t do anything right.”

He nods slowly.

“Half of bein a parent is thinkin you doing it wrong.”

And, that’s right. He’s a father. One more thing that draws her to him in a way she can’t explain.

Then she processes his words.

“I know, I just – everything with Dean, it feels— _felt_ like everything in the universe was telling me I should take him back.”

His expression changes when she changes the tense, and she blushes.

But before he can say anything, his phone is ringing.

He looks at her for only a moment longer before going to find it in his jeans and answering.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly naked, Beth pulls a sheet over herself as she watches him. Notes the tattoos and the shifting muscles on his arms and back as he moves.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” he’s saying.

The call ends and Beth nibbles on her lip, feeling a thousand different things. Insecure. Monstrous. Disgusted. Envious.

“Was that her?”

He doesn’t reply to this, just beginning to dress at a pace that answers her question.

In under a minute, he’s done, and Beth swallows.

She wants to say something – wants _him_ to say something – but she doesn’t know what.

She still doesn’t want him to go, but she knows she can’t say _that_.

Not when his _girlfriend_ had called him over and she’s just his— what? What have they ever been; what does this now make them?

Finally he stills; meets her eyes head on.

“This ain’t gonna happen again.”

She blinks.

“Ok.”

“And Imma start sendin boys – you wanna get a message to me, you tell em.”

“What? Why?”

But he doesn’t have to answer, she knows – this is the promise he’s going to make to Chana, that it was once, that it won’t happen again, that he won’t see her anymore.

Pursing his lips, he regards her one last time before opening her bedroom door and disappearing.

Staring after him, Beth realises she’d just seen him for the last time, talked to him for the last time; she’s not even allowed to _text_ him anymore.

He has a girlfriend; he’s keeping it that way.

And with a breath she realises something so goddamn dangerous; pernicious – now she only wants him more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I was so surprised by the love on this - thank you so much! I hope you'll enjoy this part, too <3
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!

“Naw, naw, over there.”

“Oh, god, sorry,” she blushes deep.

The guy rolls his eyes but helps her lift the duffle bag of money onto the next table.

“Thank you,” she offers a smile.

The less enemies she has in Rio’s organisation, the better. It’s not like the bulk of them don’t already look at her like she lost her way to Kroger.

“I gotta show you where to get paid too?” he grunts out, annoyed and clearly unaffected by her attempt at being friendly.

She’s about to answer when she realises that there are eyes on her; that there have _been_ eyes on her.

But his eyes are more pressing, and she clears her throat.

“N-no; it’s back there,” she nods confidently, pointing deeper into the warehouse.

He nods roughly but then motions for her to move out of the way so the person behind her can lay down their washed cash.

She takes a step back then finally looks up and around; looks for the source of the prickling heat at the back of her neck.

And, god, it’s him. Of course it’s him.

She sucks in a breath.

A month. A month without seeing him and now he’s just casually perched on a table in the back, watching her.

She blinks, frozen, not sure what to do. Trying to read his expression but there’s nothing there, just concentration, like he’s considering.

Then he hops down.

Beth watches as he winds further away from her then enters his little office at the back.

She swallows, for a second uncertain.

Then, pulling her handbag closer, she follows.

It feels like everyone’s eyes are on her and it makes each step feel heavier, especially when she gets to the door and realises she has no idea whether she’s even allowed to do this.

_This ain’t gonna happen again. And Imma start sendin boys – you wanna get a message to me, you tell em._

Her throat feels dry as she reaches for the doorknob then turns it; enters.

She lets the door close behind her as she takes in his dark blue shirt; his eyes trained on hers.

“Hi.”

He’s leaning back again, watching her, and it occurs to her that she has no excuse to be in here. No reason to give if he asks her why she’d followed him.

“It’s… been a while,” she says, because he’s not saying anything and it’s unsettling her.

She’d tried calling, the first few weeks. For work. ( _For_ _work_.)

It would ring for minutes on end and she’d wonder whether he was with _her_ , seeing Beth’s name (what is she even saved in his phone as?) and turning his phone over.

_This ain’t gonna happen again._

“You miss me?” he asks now, voice gruff.

Shit. The blush heats her cheeks before she can help it and she watches him admire it, lips curving up.

And she wants to say something – like _God no_ or _You wish_ ; some sort of smug lie – but then he’s crossed all the space between them in two long strides and suddenly he’s right there.

He pulls her up to him, one hand on her jaw and the other at her waist, and in an instant he’s kissing her, hard. Beth moans in surprise, stumbling into him, and he holds her firmly to his body as he licks over the seam of her lips and she parts them with a sharp breath.

It’s the last thing – _god_ , it’s the last thing – she ever could’ve expected from today, but the world seems to stand still as he kisses her. Her handbag hits the floor with a thud as she frees her arms to wrap them around his neck.

He moans his approval then pushes her back with his body till she’s up against the wall and _oh_ , how is everything inside her already on fire?

His hips start crashing into hers and she moans, spreading her legs a little so she can feel him.

God, she’s thought about his body so much, it had started to drive her mad. His touch. The hollows of his hipbones. Him, huge, inside her.

She’s whimpering with the heat pooling between her legs when suddenly he pulls away and _no, god_ , suddenly she’s cold and empty and without.

Her eyes flutter open to catch him staring down at her and there’s so much lust in his eyes that it sends a shiver through her.

Rio looks away, muttering some expletive under his breath, and it brings her the kind of clarity she hasn’t had in a month. She knows what to do – he’s here and reachable, not an unending dial tone away, and _she knows what to do._

Pulling down her arms, she works at the buttons on her blouse quicker than she ever has and by the time he looks back, they’re all undone and she has his hand in hers, guiding it inside.

This time the _Fuck_ is softer, breathier, and she’s goddamn proud of herself, she is.

His hand wraps around and squeezes, and her moan lands on his lips as he kisses her again, rougher.

He pinches the bra away to dip his hand _in_ and she whimpers, pressing further up, _closer_ to him. He twists her hard nipple between two fingers, causing a deep moan from them both.

Her hands go to the dip of his back, pulling him closer till he presses a knee between her thighs and she’s panting into his mouth at the friction. She wants him to touch her – soft, rough, hard; whatever. She just needs his fingers inside her. Right the fuck now.

She’s trying to pull away from the kiss to tell him but he chases her lips, merciless, and oh, she’s never been able to run from him.

Beth loses herself in it for a long minute, and she’s slipping her hands under his shirt to feel the muscles of his back when suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

“Boss.”

They grind to a halt.

It shatters, everything around her, right around her ears. The little world she’d been able to believe they’re in. But there is no _their_ world, just this one.

God, there’s an entire warehouse _filled_ with people out there. How had she completely forgotten that?

Finally Rio pulls away, slowly, and it feels alien for their lips to part.

Their eyes seem to stutter open at the same time and then he’s looking down at her and she can’t breathe with the fire behind his dark eyes; the _want_. Back under control now yet still there, undeniably there.

But then he rocks away and they untangle from one another, Beth doing her buttons back up.

When she’s done, he comes slightly closer again, lifting his hand.

His thumb brushes lightly over the apple of her cheek, where her blush had risen.

Her eyes flutter with it – the soft, the gentle. God, how is he so good at it?

But then, just as quickly, his touch is gone and it’s only his eyes on her again.

He doesn’t say anything, but he looks like he wants to, and she knows that feeling well. Again, she doesn’t want him to leave, even though this time he should. _She_ should.

Whatever they’re doing – and she still doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing; if they _are_ doing anything – is not meant for here and maybe that’s the look in his eyes, too. Wistfulness.

Then he’s all the way away, twisting the doorknob and something inside her.

Because as he leaves, all she can think is _Yes – yes, I missed you_.

* * *

Is there a word for shock without surprise?

It’s what she feels as he enters her kitchen silently, like he belongs here. She hadn’t known he was coming; cannot process seeing him twice in one day after a month of nothing, but deep down there is no surprise.

Like some part of her thinks he belongs here, too.

But she’d been the one to speak first earlier so now, despite being curious, she forces herself to say nothing.

And when he finally comes to a stop, the island separating them, he meets her eyes easily.

“Got a job for you.”

Oh.

Again it’s shock, not surprise, though. They have always done this – circled around back to work because it’s easier to tell her to kill a man than to explain why he’d slid that gun across the table or caressed her face; let her off easy. Because it’s easier to call him insane than create words for why she couldn’t shoot him.

Straightening her shoulders, she stands to her fullest height.

“What is it?”

From his pocket he produces a scrap of paper then places it on the counter.

Maybe it’s because she’d just been thinking about it, but in her mind there’s a flash of his gold gun sliding across her dining room table. The scrape of it; the weight of it.

A full clip adds a pound.

But the paper is featherlight as she picks it up to examine it.

A date, a time and an address.

That’s it, nothing else.

“Be there.”

“Why?” she frowns, looking back at him.

“They holding some o’ my product and I want it, I’m done playin games. You and your girls go in, distract em, and my guys will take what I’m owed.”

And she could complain, but really she’s just glad _they_ don’t have to be the ones to steal it.

She could ask what _it_ is too, the product, but it doesn’t matter. Right now, it doesn’t matter. Just like how much they’re getting paid for the job or what happens if things go wrong.

It’s overshadowed by him here, now. At night in her kitchen.

The rest of the house is dark and quiet, cavernous.

In it their bodies seem polar; tangible in a weightless space. Closer to each other than anything else but still so, so far away.

“Sounds simple enough,” she keeps her voice light. “I’m sure my sister will love the distraction part.”

A brow rises in amusement. “She the one who shot Big Mike?”

Beth flushes deep red.

“I-I didn't realise you knew about that.”

“Oh, I know all, darlin.”

It feels like it.

It feels like he knows how hard she’s struggling to keep this casual; professional. How she doesn’t want to be drawn back in, but she can’t look at him without _looking at_ _him_. Thinking about them.

“You're not using violence for this, I'm impressed.”

Casual; professional.

He shrugs. “When you a boss, you gotta know when to use a hammer and when's time for a scalpel.”

“And I'm a scalpel?”

She smirks a little, pleased by this unwitting compliment.

Rio snorts. “Sum'n like that.”

“Ok,” she nods firmly. “I've got it.”

“Should be a breeze.”

“Should be.”

She says it shortly, with another dismissive nod; it should be an easy goodbye.

But he stands firm, eyes casting over her in some kind of hesitance.

“How's Kenny doin?”

 _Now_ she’s surprised; shocked. That he would remember this a month later; that he would ask after it. That he seems to care.

But she acts unaffected, shrugging.

“I told the kids that their father and I have separated. We're working through it.”

That has meant tantrums and crying, but also bonding. Some days are good and some are soul-wrenching, but she’s gotten through them all without another breakdown, keeping his advice tucked deep inside her.

_Half of bein a parent is thinkin you doing it wrong._

Something unimpressed in his expression, Rio looks around a little.

“So you alone here at night?”

Again surprise blooms across her chest, but she manages a nod.

“Dean's living with his mother, so he has them a few nights a week.”

His face twists.

“Ain't safe.”

“Says the gangbanger in my kitchen.”

Now his lips curve up. “Touché.”

She smiles a little too even though she feels completely uncertain about everything this moment is. Why isn't he leaving? How much longer can they pretend like nothing had happened this afternoon? What happens after this?

Is she not going to see him again for another month?

Is that why he's hesitating?

“Why did you come here tonight?”

The question sits, heavy, as he watches her.

Then he rolls his shoulders.

“To give you the job.”

“You could've sent someone to do that.”

“Maybe I just wanted an _excuse to be around you_ ,” he spits out very sardonically.

But there's a truth to it, she knows it. Maybe it's in his eyes or the way she can't help finally moving forward and around the island, like his body is calling hers.

She brings them close, close enough to feel his quick cool breaths as he turns to face her.

She roots herself to his proximity and everything about this afternoon rushes back, all of him flooding her senses – his scent, the memory of him. She thinks about his hips crashing into hers, his fingers twisting her nipple. The heat of his tongue.

All she can think about is having it again.

She wants to be _around_ him, too – knees bracketing his body; heat clenching around his length.

Beth’s never been much of a seductress – has never had an interest in learning – but now, god, is there a _need_. Pinging deep inside her.

Stepping even closer, she bats her lashes; does her best.

“I guess you're right,” she breathes, “it isn't safe.” A pause, then: “Are you going to come check on me at night?”

He sucks a lip into his mouth even as he frowns deep.

“We ain't doin this, mami.”

It cuts her down even though it’s rounded at the edges, the endearment softening it at the end.

She feels prickly, wronged.

“You're the one who kissed me.”

He doesn’t get to just _do that_. And then walk away, pretend it never happened.

But as his eyes change, she realises it’s not the pretence that bothers her. That’s all they both have to stay afloat – the lie of control.

It’s not knowing the truth, that’s what kills her. Having to guess. Not knowing what’s behind his eyes.

But now he shows it to her, glance flitting over her features.

It’s so raw, she thinks it might peel her away too.

“’Cuz I don't know how not to.”

She can hear her heartbeat like a parade in her ears; her chest aches.

But.

“You seem to be doing pretty well now.”

He sighs heavily then reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

It’s gentle, sending a shiver from the tiny brush of contact he makes with her skin.

Then he steadies, eyes sombre.

“You know I got someone.”

It’s the first time he’s ever brought her up, _mentioned_ her, and where once she’d wanted him to acknowledge his relationship, now it threatens to break her.

She swallows thickly; nods.

“I know.”

So why doesn’t it matter? Why does she only want him more? Why does it not matter that she’s been cheated on and it had been the worst feeling in the world? Why does it not matter that he’s doing some version of what Dean had done? That they’re causing someone else out there hurt? Someone she’s _met_ , who had been kind and excited to meet her.

Is it just selfish? 

Or is it so much deeper? Because in her mind – and body; _god_ , _in her body,_ too – it feels like it should be _her_ that he’s faithful to. She can’t fathom him being someone else’s. Not after everything.

Not after he’d let her off the hook time after time, not after he’d touched her and looked at her with something infinite held between them.

Not after he’d talked about her _lily ass_ and then indirectly called her beautiful right after and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it for _days_.

“Do you think about me?”

 _When you're with her?_ is the rest of the question, but she can't seem to get it off her tongue.

And that’s plenty, anyway – to know whether she exists only _here_ for him, or if there’s any mirror to the way he’s taken over her life.

Rio sniffs softly like there's something obvious about this; some dark anguish built into it.

“Can't stop.”

And _no_ , no. Now all she can think about is him inside her, his fingers on her clit.

She's about to tell him she's thought about that night while touching herself, that she’s gotten off to just the thought of him.

But he speaks, rocking back a little; putting some space between them.

“You should get an alarm,” he shakes his head, glancing around the place again. “If I can get inside, so can someone else.”

She lifts her chin.

“I don't think anyone else could get in like you did.”

The moment seems to stretch infinitely as they stare at one another, surprise in his jaw. Or maybe it’s shock.

That she would say it aloud, that she can thinly shroud the truth just like he can. That there is more to this and neither of them can just step away from it.

But then he backs up, anyway, twists around; body hurtling towards the backdoor.

No. Not yet.

“Rio.”

He stops, static.

She clears her throat, stands tall. Breathes in air not permeated with him.

He can walk away, but he can’t pretend it never happened.

“If you don't answer my calls again, that's it.”

It’s not happening again.

He turns to meet her eyes over his shoulder and there's understanding in his gaze; he knows. It’s the end or the beginning. _Choose._

Eventually, slowly, he nods, chin bouncing.

Then he's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who let me know they're enjoying this! Here's another :)

It’s parent-teacher night.

Well, the _end_ of parent-teacher night, now. Dean hadn’t been able to make it, working late, so she hadn’t been forced to see him and go through that emotional ringer. But now she’s keyed up – the teachers had bought all her lies about everything being _just dandy_ at home and, oh yeah, she’d had two coffees before going through.

Beth thinks of finally allowing it to mellow with a double bourbon, but before she’s even gone for the bottle, she knows it’s not what she wants. That’s not the taste she’s craving on her lips.

She sets her handbag down then gets her phone from her pocket.

Dials.

One ring. Two.

“Yo.”

She lets out a breath.

_If you don't answer my calls again, that's it._

“Hi.”

“Whatsup?”

His voice is rough, gravelly, and she blinks longer. It’s been nearly two weeks since the last time she’s heard it.

_Do you think about me?_

_Can't stop._

Swallowing, she leans back against the front door.

“I just got home and… I’m not feeling too safe.”

She feels stupid saying it – but, god, how do people even _have affairs_? – and the thick silence that sits afterwards doesn’t help.

What if he’d only answered because he thought it was something important? Something about work? What if he’s with _her_?

“I could come by,” he says eventually, sending her heart into her throat. “Check things out.”

So he _is_ with her.

Beth closes her eyes.

Moment of truth. Is she this person? A liar, a thief, a criminal – and, now, the other woman?

“I’d like that.”

“Hmm,” he says.

And then that’s it, he hangs up.

She stares at her phone for a second then sends Dean a stream of reminder texts, things she’d forgotten when she’d dropped the kids off. Then she sets it to silent and drops it on top of her bag.

Her throat burns. She wants a drink but doesn’t want to be drunk, and she’s so nervous that she knows the one will lead to the other.

Shit. What should she do?

She hesitates in the front hall for a good few minutes, suddenly overcome with several more dilemmas: Does she smell like school? Should she take a shower? What if he gets here and she’s still in there? What if she slips and falls with all the nervous energy in her veins and then he gets here and she’s all banged up?

God.

Finally she decides on a change of clothing and a spritz of perfume, and she’s just done the latter when the doorbell sounds.

 _Bad guys don’t ring doorbells_ , she’d once told the kids.

She does a last check in the mirror then casts an exacting eye around her bedroom before finally heading to the front door.

She takes a long breath before pulling it open.

She gasps.

For a moment they just take each other in. Her in her powder blue dress, just shorter than knee length. Red lipstick.

Him in jeans, but they’re one or two shades lighter than she’s ever seen him wear before. Layered henleys – a dark green over a white one.

It’s so… casual.

She blinks, surprised, before feeling that familiar weight of his perusal as it heats her, toes to chest.

Then: “You gon’ let me in or what?”

Swallowing, she steps aside, and he smirks as he enters.

She presses the door closed then sandwiches her body against it, not sure how to process.

This is what he looks like when he’s not working? This is Rio the person, not just Rio her boss?

How… how does that make her want him even more?

God, she should’ve had the bourbon.

“H-hi,” she finds it in herself to say.

His smirk grows wider, more amused.

“Hey.”

How is it that he’s so cool, even now? Unflappable. She feels like she’s going to break out into hives.

He takes a step forward and she presses closer to the door even though there’s nowhere to go.

“So I’m here.” Another step. “Want me to check under the bed? In your closet?”

His shoulders jerk as he teases her and she watches them; watches his muscles shift and move beneath the tight-fitting tops.

“No, I—” She presses her hair back behind her ear. But she has to sacrifice this. “I just feel safer when you’re here.”

Over the past two weeks she’s thought of so many things she could’ve done that night.

What she could’ve said to make him stay. How her stupid seduction could’ve been about a million times better.

But it’s the truth, always the truth.

_Rio. I can't do this right now. Please._

_Sometimes I think you torture me just because it's an excuse to be around me._

That’s what moors him to her.

_I can’t do this anymore._

_Knowing you is like having a newborn._

Which is just about right, isn’t it? He always takes what she’s least willing to give.

And it’s _funny_ , too, isn’t it? Two sinners using honesty like currency.

She wishes she knew a way to counterfeit it.

But Rio steps closer, closer, till she can feel the heat coming off his body. Till she has to look up to meet his eyes because he puts her so out of her own mind that she’d forgotten to put her shoes back on.

His hand comes up to caress her face and she relaxes into it, body unfurling into his touch.

But she has to know.

“Were you thinking about me? Before I called?”

His eyes are dark, the hallway light falling on him in a way that sends half his face into shadow.

“Yeah.”

His other hand comes up to her face, too, and all she can think about is his lips.

“But the real thing’s better.” She sucks in a breath and he nods. “You look good, momma.”

And then he kisses her.

* * *

His mouth slants hotly over hers and she moans, spreading her legs wider so he can press his fingers deeper inside.

She wishes he were closer, that they weren’t in a car, that it weren’t his fingers inside her.

But they’re so goddamn deft and her hips move with them as she whimpers his name into his mouth.

* * *

Her fingers fumble with his belt as he settles over her on her couch, the weight of his body perfect atop hers.

He’s kissing into her neck as she works at his pants, already aching for him.

Finally she gets rid of it and he hisses as she takes him into her hand, stroking him, her back arcing up towards his.

* * *

His tongue is rough in her mouth, desperate as he yanks down her panties.

They’re up against a wall in the dealership and this time she hadn’t called. They’d been talking business and one thing had led to another.

She moans as he draws a finger down her slit then presses her open.

* * *

A breath drops from her lips as she meets his thrust.

For just a second her mind wanders to whether they’d locked his office door – but it’s too late now, she’s spread across his desk and he’s all the way into her.

Her toes are beginning to curl inside her boots.

“ _Rio_ ,” she moans, breathless.

* * *

She keeps waiting to want it less. For it to feel less like a need and more like something she’d gorged herself on; she’s had enough.

It never comes.

And she begins to worry. For a thousand different reasons.

 _Why_ can’t she get enough? What if _he_ gets enough?

What does any of it mean? Why can he get her burning up inside with a look?

Who is she becoming?

What are they becoming?

* * *

“Ow! Owowow.”

He’s fucking her up against his office wall but he instantly freezes, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think something on your arm caught in my hair.”

Probably one of the leather armbands, maybe a clasp.

“Damn, sorry.”

He shifts, using his other arm to carefully unhook the hair.

“That good?”

She’s about to say yes, but then she meets his eyes. They’d been so dark a minute ago, focused, and now they’re filled with concern.

For her. For a tug on her hair.

“Y-yeah.”

His brow jumps up.

“What?”

God, is it in her eyes? Every worry she has, every thought about this that scares her.

“I just…”

What? How can she tell him any of that? And here; now?

“You wanna stop?” he wonders, gentle.

Her head immediately jerks into a shake and he smiles a little.

It’s too soft, too warm. She presses her eyes closed.

“Bring me back.”

He hums acknowledgement before pressing closer again, lips brushing over her ear.

And then he starts whispering things that make her blush; that make her wetter. Things about her body; how she feels around him. In seconds she’s whimpering, so ready to keep going.

So glad to have her mind solely back on _this_ and not that.

Because _that_ is the scariest goddamn thought of all.

Because there is something uncharted between them, unspeakably blank, and she can’t _think_ about it or it’ll all come crashing down, this neat little house of cards and sin they’ve built for themselves.

* * *

She’s applying hand cream, ready to go to bed, when her phone rings.

And she looks at it as if it’s alien when she sees his name.

He never calls. She calls, or he texts about work. Never this way around.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, so. I ain’t feelin too safe. Think you should prolly come do sum’n ’bout that.”

She swallows hard.

He’s home? He’s inviting her there?

Blinking hard, she clears her throat.

“What’s the address?”

* * *

Beth pulls up to his building.

She can’t believe she’s here; doing this.

Is this how he feels every time she calls him? The uncertainty, the guilt.

Telling herself it’s just the newness of the situation, she forces herself to climb out of the car then take the elevator up to his floor.

It’s a really nice building; a really nice neighbourhood. Hipper than her own but a little wealthier, too. She wrings her hands until finally the doors open and she can traverse the quiet hallway to find his apartment.

It’s easy enough, and she lifts her fist to knock very lightly before immediately regretting it. Should she have called instead? What if he changed his mind? What if she’d misinterpreted? What if—

The door swings open and he’s behind it, in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. Comfortable, he looks comfortable.

Then he jerks his head.

“C’mon in.”

“Thank you,” she swallows stiffly, taking measured steps inside.

Before she can even get a look at his place, his hands are on her.

But they’re soft, at her shoulders, and he must feel her tense up because he sniffs out a laugh.

“Just wanna take your coat, momma.”

Oh.

Feeling stupid, she undoes the buttons and he takes it off her.

She turns to watch him hang it and she isn’t sure what she expected from this entire experience, but him taking her coat and hanging it on a _coat rack_ certainly hadn’t been part of it.

How is he so… normal?

But before she can entertain this thought, his eyes are going to her body, taking in what she’s wearing, and she hadn’t _actually_ been prepared to lose her coat quite so soon. (Seriously, how do people even _have_ affairs??)

The black smock dress she’s wearing underneath is short, chosen for a reason, but now she realises she must look very deliberately seductive in it and her long black boots.

She pinks under his gaze but for once he’s merciful, turning away then heading into the kitchen.

“You want some tea?”

He must be making for himself; it would be rude to say no.

“…Ok.”

Her glance flickers around, but Rio twists to regard her.

“You want or not?”

God. If only she knew what she wanted.

“Yes,” she nods.

He nods too then goes ahead making it as she turns to regard his apartment.

It’s incredibly light and open; art and colours everywhere. It looks _put together_ , designed. Neat to a fault. Even his bed, in the middle of the space, is crisply made.

It feels strange to see where he sleeps, to see any of this. To get a peak into who he is when he isn’t with her.

Catching sight of his son’s room, Beth nibbles at her lip.

“Are you alone?”

Why did he call? Why change everything? Why tonight of all nights?

“Yea, everyone’s outta town or someplace.”

 _Everyone_. That can’t be in reference to his son. Does he know, somehow, that she can’t bear him mentioning her?

“You take sugar?”

Does she? She suddenly can’t remember how she takes tea. Does she even drink tea?

“Two. No milk.”

It sounds right.

Then suddenly he’s right in front of her, offering it to her, and she realises he’s only holding one cup. He hadn’t been making them both tea. He’d made specifically for her.

She meets his eyes, overwhelmed.

“Thank you.”

“Uh huh,” he shrugs a shoulder easily.

He goes over to the couch and she follows, lagging a step behind. There are coasters on the coffee table. Rio has coasters. Her enigmatic dangerous crime boss has coasters.

She lays one out then sets her cup on top. Hesitates for a moment. Then she sits.

It’s not quite avoiding him but it’s not beside him, either, and he casts a long glance over at her.

Takes in her legs crossed at the ankles, her hands awkwardly held in her lap, her lips pulled anxiously together.

“Why you nervous?”

“I don’t know.”

She does. It’s because everything suddenly matters, and she knows _why_ for that, too. Because she’d thought this was _her_ thing, that she was dragging him down with her, but now he’d called her out of his own; _wanted_ her here.

He hadn’t left it at just thinking about her, he’d made her come over. Now he is the initiator, too. He’d scarred his own conscience in a similar but different – _worse_ – way just so he could see her.

And that changes everything.

“You want me to put on some tunes or sum’n?”

She shakes her head. What she _wants_ is to feel steady again, and this caring, normal, coaster-owning Rio doesn’t make her feel steady. It makes her think of what can’t be unthought; the fragility of that house of cards.

So she speaks, softly.

“I wore something nice for you.”

She makes sure to add the _for you_ , because it’s been a long, _long_ time since she’s wanted someone to want her. And how _much_ she wants him to want her? Maybe never.

He frowns quickly, immediately intrigued, then he jumps forward. He undoes the little tie on her dress and she helps him pull it up and off her till she’s only in the little half-lace half-sheer babydoll negligee she’d dug out, paired with a lacy thong.

She hasn’t worn lingerie, _this_ kind of lingerie, since the beginning of her marriage. Has fit it on, even sometimes bought it, but never worn it.

There’s a way a woman wants to be looked at when she’s wearing lingerie. Not the way Dean always had, with a sort of greed, like she was an object he was going to pounce.

No, it’s more like…

She can’t find the word for it until Rio’s passing two hands over her body and the thin material, fingers light and revering.

“For me, huh?”

Like he wants to worship you.

She nods quickly, breath short, and then his fingers are at the lines of her thong. He meets her eyes, seeking permission, and she nods again before he encourages her into a more reclined position.

She closes her eyes, feeling just his breath on the inside of her thigh as he pulls the lace down her legs. It falls at her ankles, no longer crossed, and Rio starts kissing up then into, slow but deliberate, each touch seeming measured. If there’s a handbook on her body, he has it.

Her hand goes to his hair when he licks into her and he’s busy spreading her wider when her eyes flutter open and seeing his head between her legs makes her whine out a sound that makes her chest flush.

“Yea, momma,” he murmurs against her, breath hot as his fingers sink into her thigh.

Her hips start lifting too soon, trying to ride his face, desperate, and the groans that come from his throat make her so wet, she thinks he’ll drown in it.

“Stop,” she breathes out, barely able to think. “Rio, stop.”

It takes him a second, like he’d been lost in her, and the glisten on his lips makes her shiver when he looks up.

“I need you.”

And the words feel freeing – the truth, _the_ _truth._

It’s too true in too many ways she can’t catalogue as he pulls back then jerks his head at his bed. She nods and they somehow get each other up and off, shuffling over towards the bed as he drowns her in a kiss that tastes like him and her and all their sins.

Her hands get him naked then push him onto the bed and he looks at her with awe in his eyes as she puts a knee on either side of him.

And even though she wants him inside her more than anything in this world, she finds herself just meeting his forehead with hers; taking a second.

His breath falls on her lips as he looks up into her eyes.

“Rio,” she says his name.

Soft, quiet.

It nearly aches, how much she wants to tell him. How much she wishes she knew what she wanted to tell him.

“Elizabeth.”

There’s an eternity in the way he says her name, the way he stretches it out and secures it to him.

But she can't focus anymore because she wants him to stretch _her_ out; wants to be secured to him.

Their moans fall between their bodies as she takes him inside her, eyes closing as her body trembles.

“Fuck,” she sighs.

His lips curl up around her collarbone and the truth is she should be used to everything about him by now, but she’s not. Not his intoxicating scent or his body pressed to hers or the way he makes her feel so goddamn full, it's like nothing else matters.

When they’re like this, he feels like hers.

When they’re like this, it feels like they’re going to hell and she doesn’t care, not even a little bit.

As long as she gets to go with him. As long as she gets to have this heaven first.

Rio tugs down the lace of her lingerie so he can take her nipple into his mouth as she starts bouncing a little.

He helps with his hands on her hips and she forgets to breathe for several seconds. The way he feels inside her, it’s indescribable, and the way he’s sucking at her breast isn’t helping, her head spinning…

He helps her go faster and then they’re both making obscene sounds, drowning out even their bodies, and she’s cursing over and over as he moans to _Keep goin, momma._ She starts clenching before she’s ready and he whines in complaint, biting down on her nipple, and Beth sobs out her helplessness.

Her fingers are clawing into his skin and she tries to keep going, she _does_ , but oh, it’s too much, he’s too much, she’s too wet and she thinks she’ll _die_ if she doesn’t let go right now.

She comes with a long moan from the back of her throat, scratching long lines down the back of his neck as he growls, fucking up into her even as she shudders in his lap, boneless and fluttering.

Then she feels him twitch inside her, stiffen beneath her. She sucks his earlobe into her mouth to take him through it and as he comes inside her, Beth thinks _god, she loves that too._

* * *

He’s staring at her.

“What?” she asks, squirming a little.

“Nothin,” he shakes his head.

But he’s smiling, glance taking in her sheet-covered body.

“Tell me,” she demands, putting on her snootiest voice.

Rio smirks, knowing she’s doing it.

He knows her too well – another card for their fragile little house.

“You look good in my bed.”

A breath leaves her lips and his smirk widens from where he’s sitting in the middle of the bed. Twisting over, she buries her face in the pillow a little, hoping to expend her blush there.

“You want sum’n?”

“No,” she mumbles into the pillow.

She can only imagine his level of smug as she hears him get up and go into the kitchen.

After a minute the bed dips beside her and she looks up to find him sipping from a bottle of water.

The way he looks good doing even that is unfair, she thinks, gaze flitting over his tattoo and bobbing Adam's apple. 

“Can I ask you something?”

It makes it out of her mouth before she can help it and, setting down his bottle, Rio nods.

“Shoot.”

“It’s about her.”

He'd made eye contact, but now he lets out an almost weary breath as he looks away.

“Knock yourself out.”

_Do you love her?_

“Does she know you? Like _really_ know you," she adds hastily. "Your favourite restaurant and your friends and your son.”

_All the things I don't know about you._

“Yeah.”

He still doesn't look at her.

“But she doesn’t know what you do?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?" This sits in the air, accusatory, for a long second before she expands: "Why does she get to see every other part of you except for this, the one I get to see?”

_Why don't I get to see those other parts?_

Rio seems to mull this over for a long moment, like maybe he's regretting ever letting her ask.

But then he answers.

“Chana ain’t like us. She…” He shakes his head, sigh regretful. “She’s a good person.”

Affronted, she sucks in a breath.

“I’m not?”

“Naw," he says, finally looking at her, "you’re way more interesting than that.”

And after just saying _Chana’s_ good like it was the highest praise, he can’t possibly mean that as a compliment, can he?

But, either way.

“You can’t say that,” she scoffs, sitting up.

“Why?”

“You can’t call me more interesting than the woman you refuse to break up with.”

It's the truth and yet she feels something shift in the air; in her stomach. His expression is clouded, eyes stormy as he sits up straighter.

“That whatchu want? For me to break up with her?” He laughs a little and it’s horrid; hollow. “For what? For you?”

She squirms.

“No! I just—”

“What, Elizabeth?” he cuts her off, eyes darker than ever. “What the fuck do you want from me, huh? You wanna sit in that big ol’ house wit’ your fancy-ass friends knowin someone like me’s out there wanting you, but you can pick and choose? Teatime I’m your banger boss terrorisin you; night falls and you wanna fuck?”

It strikes somewhere deep down, like a spear in the underbelly.

But she blinks the hurt away; the twinge of self-hatred. She refuses to let him get under her skin.

Instead she reads it a different way, a way she doesn’t think he meant for her to. But she knows him better by now; knows that what he says is a roadmap, not a destination.

“So _that’s_ why you won’t tell her?” she accuses, shoulders confident. “About your job? Because you’re scared she won’t want someone like you in her life?”

Something darts through his eyes, but he clicks his tongue.

“Told you she ain’t like you.”

“Right. Because I’m not a good person.”

He stares at her for a long while, seeming to turn words over in his mouth.

It scares her. What can he say – what can he say that’s worse than what he already has?

How much worse can it hurt?

“A good person don’t fuck a guy just ’cuz he’s with someone.”

She sucks in a breath.

 _He thinks_ —

“That’s not what happened!”

“Naw?” he throws back, jaw hard. “You tellin me you woulda let me kiss you if you didn’t know about her?”

Oh god, oh god.

“Y-yes.”

He snorts humourlessly.

“You a liar.”

“And you’re a cheater!”

She snaps it – hotly, angrily – before she can help and. God.

The way he looks at her, face contorting then ironing out into stone.

It snuffs the air from her lungs and she wants to take it back immediately, wants to make it right somehow, but she doesn’t know what to say.

Can’t think what could make him stop looking at her the way he is, like he wants to flay her alive.

“Get out.”

Does he sharpen his tongue or do words cut like razors from it at will?

She’s bleeding everywhere but it’s all on the inside, and it’s all she can do to hold the parts of herself together as he rips away the sheet and stalks towards the bathroom. Bangs the door shut.

She swallows; tries to breathe.

Maybe he’ll come back. Maybe he’ll take a second and she’ll think of words and they’ll be able to squash everything back into the Pandora’s box she’d opened with one stupid question.

But after a while the shower starts up and she realises he’s not coming back. Not till she’s gone.

So Beth takes a second to compose herself. To check that she is still whole on the outside. Then she stuffs the lingerie into her bag, finds her panties and dress on the couch; puts her shoes back on.

She gets her coat from the coat rack and as she puts it on, she can’t help turning back. Regarding everything that had come before.

Her eyes fall on the cup of tea – cold, now – on its coaster.

Then she leaves.

* * *

* * *

**Beth's outfit:**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...How we feelin?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another (shorter!) one :)

She’s laughing half-heartedly at a joke Ruby had made when suddenly her phone goes off.

It’s him.

The text is succinct: **_I’m here._**

Which is confusing considering she hadn’t been expecting him and she isn’t home. She’s about to reply with at least the latter when she thinks to look out a window and _oh_. He’s _here_. At Ruby’s house.

Panic rises in her throat at the sight of the sleek black car.

She hasn’t told the girls about any of it, she’d been too ashamed. How is she supposed to tell Ruby, who’d taken Dean’s cheating so hard? How is she supposed to tell Annie, whom she’d given such a hard time about cheating with Gregg? God, she’s such a hypocrite.

But before she can say anything, Annie’s frowning then following her gaze.

“Gangfriend’s here? Is he coming inside?”

Ruby gasps. “He can’t come inside!”

“What’s wrong, Ruby? Scared he won’t like your throw cushions?”

Beth forces herself to stand, knuckles turning white around her phone.

“I’ll be right back.”

They mercifully don’t say anything as she leaves and she wonders if, on some level, they have some idea. Could they think her capable of all the terrible things she’s done?

She’s spent the past week thinking about nothing else, thinking about the look on his face when he’d told her to leave.

Her legs feel unstable as she makes her way down Ruby’s walkway then across the street.

For eight days she’s wondered – feared – what it would be like when they saw each other again, even if just accidentally. Would he look at her? Would there be that same vitriol in his eyes?

Now, she supposes, she’s about to find out.

Heart in her throat, Beth climbs into the car.

And the answer is _no_ , he doesn’t look at her.

Rio’s focused on something in the distance outside his own window and she sits awkwardly, not sure what to say. ‘Hi’ seems too little; too insubstantial to vault across the chasm between them.

But so, it seems, is everything.

It’s funny because that night she’d thought that if he’d just come back out of the bathroom, she’d find the words to make it all better. But she still hasn’t.

An apology seems too insincere, too frail. Like it could blow away on the wind and mean less than before she’d said it.

So she has nothing to say; has no idea what to do but wring her hands in her lap. Maybe she’s not even _supposed_ to say something, maybe he will be the initiator once more.

He has to be here for a reason, after all.

So she waits.

It’s a long minute later when he finally cuts the quiet.

“Ended things.”

Oh.

She shifts.

“I’m sorry.”

The silence sits for the longest time as her mind whirls. What does this mean? Is it supposed to mean anything?

Should she not have apologised? Should she not have apologised for _that_?

“Y’know,” he starts, thoughtful, “I ain’t never been a cheater in my life.”

Beth swallows hard, wishing she could see his expression. Wishing it would tell her that she’s reading the despair in his tone incorrectly.

“Not once. Not when I was young, when other guys had five bitches lined up. Never saw the point. Never could stomach the lying.”

Oh, god.

“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” she finds the words tumbling from her mouth, “I’m just as much to blame. You’re right, I-I… pursued you.”

After Chana, _because of_ Chana.

She’s come to accept that. A week to interrogate herself and now she's come to accept it.

Would she have let him kiss her regardless? She doesn’t know.

But she knows how she’d felt seeing him in that store with her; hearing her own best friends say that the perfect woman for him was the exact opposite of herself. Seeing him walk away from her after saying they couldn’t be together again.

It had ignited something within her, something selfish and possessive.

Something that realised she’d always seen him as _there_ , an option. Every time he looked at her, there’d been potential in his eyes. _One day_.

But then she’d seen him with Chana and it had all changed. Because what if they were in love? What if he married her? What if there was never any _One day_?

She’d felt like a spectator in her own life, and not for the first time.

No; no, she’s very familiar with that feeling. Just not with him. He’s always made her feel in control – of work, of them. With him, she’s always in the driver’s seat.

But not now.

He acts like she’s said nothing.

“Know what the crazy part is?”

Now, finally, he turns to look at her, and her stomach twists.

He looks tired. Broken.

“She wanted to give me another chance.”

_Chana ain’t like us. She’s a good person._

She forces herself to speak, knowing she’ll regret it if she doesn’t.

“What did you say?”

He shakes his head.

“Didn’t have to say nothin. She said… she said she could move past it, but only if it was just sex.”

Beth blinks, trying to remind her lungs how to breathe.

How? God, how? She doesn’t remember how.

_Elizabeth._

_You look good in my bed._

_You’re way more interesting than that._

His eyes are trained on her and she doesn’t know if he’s expecting something from her or if he’s just caught up in his own mind.

But what could he want from her? How can he just bring it down, all the cards they’d worked so hard to construct into the most delicate disaster? How is it he can just _say_ everything unsaid and throw both of them bare like it’s nothing?

“W-why are you telling me this?”

He draws a breath.

“’Cuz I’m sick of bein a liar.”

She looks away, down at her hands; has to.

Has to get away from his gaze that hurts so goddamn much.

_I ain’t never been a cheater in my life. Not once. Never could stomach the lying._

She swallows down the guilt in her throat, thick and gelatinous, then shakes her head wistfully.

“God, how did we get here?”

It’s supposed to be rhetorical, but he has an answer – god, of course he has an answer.

“I can’t think straight when I’m wit’ you.”

Her neck jerks up, heart pounding – but now he’s staring straight ahead, out the windshield.

The breath he draws is longer, now; final, somehow.

“That’s a problem. So I’m leavin.”

Body jolting, Beth sucks in a breath.

“What??”

“Got lotsa contacts, should be pretty easy settin up shop someplace else.”

She sputters for a good few words before finally producing something coherent: “Y-you don’t have to leave, you could just fire me or—”

“You’re in my fuckin head!”

He’d just barely uttered everything else and, in contrast, the yell seems to echo around the car; ring in her ears long after he's finished speaking.

She blinks, breathless. What can she possibly say to that?

_Do you think about me?_

_Can't stop._

It’s unthinkable. That she could take up any space in his mind at all; that it could be as much as to make him leave.

Unthinkable that she’ll never get to see him again. That she’ll never again feel the kaleidoscope of emotions he brings down on her like she’s under siege.

But she doesn’t know how to say any of this, either; doesn’t know how it could help if she could.

When he speaks again, his voice is even.

“And you’re in my car.”

It’s a dismissal and she hesitates because no, _no_. Not yet. First she has to think of something, anything, to make him stay.

The truth, Beth, the truth.

But what is the truth? He’d been right – she’s a liar.

She can think of a million lies that won’t hold him, but not the smallest kernel of truth that just might make him stay, even for a minute.

And she’s still trying, hard, to force something onto her woollen tongue when he starts the car.

She shoots a glance at him, hurt striking in a way she can’t even begin to describe.

But his jaw is hard, unyielding, and he refuses to meet her gaze even though she knows he must feel it.

So, with a breath, she pushes out of the car.

Gets back across the street, legs even shakier now.

Then, finally, she makes it back into her best friend’s house and her body slumps against Ruby’s front door.

She feels two sets of eyes land on her but she doesn’t meet them, sure she’s about to be sick.

“B, what’s wrong?”

And, breaking down, she tells them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is for real for real the last chapter! I _am_ toying with the idea of moving this out into its own standalone series, though, so let me know if you are interested in more :)

There’s a mover’s truck.

The girls – and, well, copious amounts of liquor – had gotten her so worked up, convincing her she could make him stay. And, sure, she’d passed out on Ruby’s couch afterwards, but this morning she’d woken still strangely filled with it – hope. And, well, a headache.

She’d gone home, had a shower and Advil, and then driven over to his place. _I know where he stays now_ , she’d thought smugly on the way over.

But now the smugness and hope disappear, evaporate.

Because there’s a mover’s truck and it’s huge and she just hadn’t been expecting him to be halfway gone already.

Or is it completely? Would he even still be here?

Beth swallows, hesitating. But in her head she hears Ruby’s voice.

_Beth Boland, you have been my best friend for 20 years and you have never done anything this stupid or reckless. There has to be a reason for that._

With a deep breath, she climbs out of the van then heads into the building.

She’s not alone in the elevator this time, a pierced and tattooed couple half her age looking at her like she got lost on her way to Costco. She gives them a nervous smile then looks away, tapping her foot anxiously.

Finally she makes it to Rio’s floor and her heart speeds seeing a group of men coming from his apartment, all carrying boxes or items of furniture. 

She tells herself that at least that means the door is open – _Find the silver lining, sis. Like, sure, maybe he's leaving, but at least he came to say goodbye in person?_ – and she steps inside with her stomach doing backflips.

Is he here?

Looking around, she realises how different his place is in the streaming mid-morning sun. Still open, still neat. But also light and airy, a cross-breeze swirling around from the open windows.

And then there are the boxes, stacked all around. His bed is already gone, as is the couch and coffee table.

And then she sees him.

He’s in the kitchen, drinking what she guesses is tea.

She gasps and it makes him find her eyes over his cup. He blinks long and slow.

Clearing her throat, she makes her way over.

Beth's heels click against the hardwood floor as she approaches, stopping just shy of the kitchen island.

Setting down his cup, Rio drags his gaze from hers to reach into his pocket.

“Yo, Alex,” he calls out, pulling bills from his pocket. “Come back in thirty.”

It’s a good sign, she thinks. He could’ve made her say her bit with everyone still here, she wouldn’t have put it past him. The silver lining.

‘Alex’ comes forward, nods and takes the money. He looks her up and down, as if wondering what her story is; why she’s interrupting this. And god, she wishes she knew.

He leaves with all the rest of the men, silently filing out but then leaving behind an even worse quiet behind them that feels endless; deafening.

The last guy shuts the door behind him, the bang feeling like a gong. _Now. Your time is now._

Rio turns away, rinsing his cup in the sink, and it gives her the opportunity to round the counter; bring them closer.

“You’re really leaving,” she finds herself saying, voice scratchy.

Nodding, he turns back around.

“Like I said.”

_I’m sick of bein a liar._

“Please don’t.”

She sucks in a breath, and there’s as much surprise in his eyes as there is in her chest.

She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t thought the words before they’d vaulted from her tongue.

And now he stares at her, waiting for more, but she has nothing to follow it up with, shell-shocked.

A little like the girls had been when she’d told them everything.

Not just that she’d been sleeping with their dangerous crime boss – no, also that he’d had a girlfriend and she’d known it and it had driven her. That it hadn’t just happened once or twice but goddamn consistently. That she’d called him a cheater and it had hurt him. That she’s capable of hurting him.

That she’d hurt herself in the process, so goddamn deep, and now she doesn’t know how to go on. How to lose him, even though he’d never been hers to begin with.

There’d been judgement – just a little, mostly from her sister. But primarily they’d just been… shocked.

And once that had worn off, they’d plied her with liquor and comfort – cycling through everything from _Maybe you’re better off_ to _Bitch, if you want that man then go get that man._

Beth clears her throat.

“It’s just that… you own coasters.”

He stares at her.

“…What?”

The pure befuddlement in his expression makes her take a moment to gather her thoughts.

Then she tries again.

“You said you wouldn’t fit into my life, that I only want to be with you at night. But I’m here now – and from where I’m standing, our lives aren’t all that different,” she throws her arms wide.

His beautiful kitchen with its trendy green backsplash. The light spilling onto the fair kitchen cabinets.

It’s not quite her life – especially considering the way his neighbours had looked at her – but it’s not that vastly different, either. She can see them together more easily than she can see them apart. 

She'd realised that last night, out loud as the girls had been questioning her. And, more than anything else, that had shaken them. 

But it's true. The thought of life without him seems unreal; nonsensical.

“ _I_ want to know your favourite restaurant and your friends and your son.”

He watches her, expression illegible, and she feels so raw and vulnerable.

But of course it’s not enough for him. He always has to take what she’s least willing to give.

“Why?”

She fumbles.

“ _Why_?”

“Yeah, why?”

God. Oh, god.

“Because it wasn’t just sex for me, either.”

Something darts through his eyes, tugs at his lips, but he erases it quickly, shrugging as his jaw hardens.

“I made plans, Elizabeth. Got shit goin. You can’t just roll up, snap your fingers and figure you can change em.”

He looks around and she follows his gaze, takes in the packed-up apartment once more. All his missing furniture.

And she doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t know how to recompense for not saying any of this when she needed to, before it was too late; before he did what he felt he had to do.

Plans, he’d made plans.

_Got lotsa contacts, should be pretty easy settin up shop someplace else._

He’s already started. She sees him here, in front of her, but he’s already gone. Already moved on. Without her.

Deliberately without her. He wants her out of his head.

But how is she supposed to get him out of hers?

She steps forward and Rio backs up, body hitting the counter. Another, then another, until she’s all the way close, their chests touching.

_I can’t think straight when I’m wit’ you._

She needs that to be the case now, needs him to _not think_.

Taking a small breath, she presses her hands to both sides of his neck, covering the wings of his tattoo.

He blinks down at her, unmoving. Waiting.

And then she kisses him.

His lips are her safest haven; her greatest enemy. They unravel her in seconds even though he’s barely kissing her back. So she pushes closer, kisses him harder, and with a little sound from the back of his throat, he parts her lips with his tongue, hands flying to her waist and holding her there.

A whimper escapes her mouth as she wraps her arms around his neck and relishes his tongue; the feeling of his body against hers.

God, she’s missed him so much.

She bites his lip, drags it out, and his moan goes right between her legs.

And it’s after she lets his lip go that she takes a deep breath, speaks.

“I need you.” She lets their eyes meet, lets there be no misunderstanding. The truth, Beth, the truth. “In my life.”

There’s a long silence as they just stare at each other, Beth trying to understand what’s in his eyes.

Then he pulls away with a long breath. And she stands still, barely blinking, as he reaches forward with one finger, gently moving a strand of hair away from her face.

Her eyes flutter closed for just a second and when she opens them, he’s no longer touching her.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

And even though it breaks something deep inside her, feels it shatter and ricochet and make her body shake, she refuses to let him see it.

So she turns, not letting herself cry till she’s almost at the front door.

Recompense. Maybe this is what she deserves – the pain she’d let another woman experience because she’d been selfish. _Karma’s a bitch_ , she can hear her sister saying.

And by the time she lets herself out, she’s sobbing so hard she can barely see straight.

* * *

Rio pulls up to her house.

He don’t know what he’s doing here, he’s got a flight to make.

Except for he wants to see her. Wants to be with her.

But that’s the thing, ain’t it? He wants her too goddamn much and it’s a goddamned problem. And problems are his specialty, he takes care of em.

Except for her. Her he’s never been able to take care of. Not after she’d thrown keys right in his face, not after she’d gotten him arrested, not after she’d come after him and made him willingly obliterate his own damn relationship.

So now he’s gotta take himself outta the equation.

_I need you. In my life._

She fucks with his mind, man.

She touches him and it’s like nothin else matters but making her happy; making her his. And then it’s over and he remembers she ain’t his and won’t never be ’cuz she only wants what she can’t have.

_I want to know your favourite restaurant and your friends and your son._

_It wasn’t just sex for me, either._

For a second he’d believed her. Believed that that meant anything real.

But she fucks with his mind. And, for once, he’d forced himself to think straight. To—

She’s there.

In the window, suddenly appearing to pull closed a curtain. But she’d stopped midway through, catching sight of his car.

He wonders if she’d been looking out for it; if she always is the way he’s always scanning for her when it’s time for pickups or drop-offs at the warehouse.

She stands real still, frozen in indecision. Normally he’d call if he wanted her to come out. So she just stands there, bathed in the evening light and whatever lamp she’d just turned on behind her. Looks so fuckin angelic.

She’s wearing some kinda sleep shirt and it makes him remember the lingerie she’d worn. _For him_.

The way she’d told him that, brazen.

The way she’d blushed when he’d told her he liked her in his bed.

Fuck, he’s in so damn deep.

He’s glad his windows are too dark for her to know that he’s staring at her. Glad he don’t got the ability to go inside.

’Cuz truth is, he needs to go. Needs to put her and all the ways she makes him powerless in his rearview.

So with one last glance at her, he starts the car.

He’s got a flight to catch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #catchflightsnotfeelings


End file.
